


pink light

by sxndazed



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Implied Past OiHina, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25759114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxndazed/pseuds/sxndazed
Summary: You're used to being alone.He doesn't let you stay that way.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 6
Kudos: 79





	pink light

The sun peeks through the curtains of your room, waking you up.

You're used to waking up early, used to the warm sunshine prying your eyes open, pulling you up so you can start your day.

You're used to waking up early, but you're also used to waking up alone.

You're used to a bed that somehow feels too big even though there wouldn't be too much space for someone else. You're used to radiating warmth nearly every waking moment of every day, but suddenly the temperature drops when you hit the bed and you're wishing for someone to hold you. You would be too warm, you know it, but it doesn't stop you from wishing for it all the same.

You're used to being alone.

You're used to your drive getting you through the toughest times. You're used to the desire to do better, to _be better,_ getting you through.

You think about your dreams when you're tossing the ball against the wall.

You think about your dreams when you feel the roots break through the solid floor underneath you and wrap around your ankles when everyone else seems to be moving forward.

You think about your dreams when you say goodbye to all that you know in the middle of the night to head off to a different country, a different continent, to do better, to _be better._

It's all you think about when the time difference keeps your phone from vibrating, when your wallet gets lost, when the sand feels like it’s dragging you down when it should be lifting you up.

That's why you're there, isn't it? To lift yourself up.

You find reprieve in routines.

You wake up with the sun and sit on the sand. There's no use in fighting it, so you try to befriend it. After all, it's what you manage to do best.

You meditate with the sounds of the waves rolling in and the birds cawing. You will yourself to focus on your breathing as the city wakes up.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

The sun warms your skin, and you feel the cold that lingers despite the heat and humidity start to fade.

The cold comes back when you go to sleep that night, but it's weaker than it has been.

***

You get a job that helps you maintain the endurance you worked on all through high school.

You manage to save enough money to buy gifts for your friends and send them home, shipping costs and all.

You find yourself grasping a language that feels less foreign with each passing day, until you stop having to think so hard when you speak.

You learn to cook.

You've done it before, for Natsu when your mom had to work a little longer and for yourself when meat buns and bananas could only get you so far.

You immerse yourself in the culture through cooking, through the dishes you eat in restaurants and fall in love with enough to try. You connect yourself to the culture you've known all your life because nothing else cures homesickness like a taste of food you've eaten all your life.

You develop relationships with Pedro and Nice through cooking together and learn that food isn't just to take care of yourself. It's love and care, for you and those around you.

You find comfort in oddly timed calls and active group chats. Pictures sent back and forth, boisterous laughs, quiet statements of "I miss you," and solid declarations of "I'm proud of you."

You find a piece of home in a person you never thought you'd see in this country, on a beach. You share stories and food, nights out and mornings in, slow kisses and soft touches. Spiking the ball he sets to you is a taste of home and a reminder of why you're here. When you're strong, you'll meet others who are strong too, stronger even. It's why you're here. It's why you've stayed.

When you part ways, you feel like you've gained something.

You find yourself in the sand of the beaches of Brazil.

You realize that sand is rough and drags you down.

You realize that sand is forgiving and generous.

You learn to rely on yourself, your skills that you've only continued to develop since that day you rode past and saw a volleyball game on television.

Six players on one side of the net.

The winners are the best six.

Here, in the sand, it's two, and you learn to rely on yourself, because even the strongest five can only get you so far before you need to learn that you can rely on yourself too.

The sun washes you in warmth and kisses your skin when it's time to leave. Tight hugs and sweet kisses and promises of "I'll watch you" are exchanged. You feel warm and light, but the cold still lingers.

You've accomplished so much, and they've witnessed it.

You just wish there was someone you could share that with, no matter where you are.

***

Home is a welcoming hug.

It's familiarity and newness rolled into one.

It's handing over a t-shirt and exchanging memories in person instead of over the phone.

It's a tight squeeze and a solid hand on the back and a different kind of warmth.

It's a solid ground, shoes squeaking and the sound reverberating in the gym.

It's six players on one side of the net.

It's the best six that are winners.

It's a new team that welcomes him, filled with familiar faces that witness his growth, his independence.

It's a spot in the V.League and a chance to move forward.

It's a different kind of warmth that chases away the cold, but some of it still lingers.

***

Osaka isn't Miyagi, isn't Rio, but it becomes a home too.

Practices ease you in.

You learn to rely on others again, but this time, you know what you can offer and that others can rely on you even more than before.

They are opportunities to connect and reconnect, to make plans to spend nights out and afternoons together.

Practices are a place to find yourself with solid ground and a ball in your hands.

They are a place for a perfect toss, given with two hands, ten fingers, and a smile in place. You hit it, and it feels like everything you've worked for makes sense in that moment.

When your eyes lock, it's like officially coming home.

***

The sun peeks through the curtains of your room, waking you up.

You're used to waking up early, used to the warm sunshine prying your eyes open, pulling you up so you can start your day.

You're used to waking up early, but you're also used to waking up alone.

You're used to being alone, but today, you aren't.

The bed that once felt too big is now a source of comfort, of warmth.

There's an arm around your waist, fingers pressing against your hip, against the prints left there from the night before.

You look up to long lashes and a blond head of hair that is as soft as you imagined. Eyes trail down to a neck littered in red splotches made from teeth against skin and lips to sooth them.

A breath comes in warm puffs, a chest rising and falling with a slow rhythm filling your senses.

The sun washes both of you in its light. It's warm and bright and _sweet._

When you fall asleep and when you wake up, there's a cold that lingers despite the head you radiate.

Today, it's nowhere to be found.

You untangle yourself from limbs and sheets and slip out.

Feet slipped into slippers pad against the floor in the apartment you made a home.

There's some milk bread on the counter and a dozen eggs from the trip to the store a couple of days ago.

You make a pot of coffee and fry up a few eggs. The bread is sliced and lightly toasted. The eggs are plated and mugs are set out for coffee to be poured into. An apple is sliced up, and everything is put together.

You're used to being alone, but today, you are not.

You make your way back into your room and slide onto the bed.

He's lying in sheets, cheek pressed against the pale blue pillow case, and his hair is strewn around in unruly curls.

You brush the hair from his eyes and run the back of your hand down his face, thumb stopping at his lips and running across the bottom. You remember kissing him, your teeth grazing against that bottom lip and his mouth parting so his tongue could meet yours.

His hands are on your side of the bed as if they're seeking warmth. His hands are bigger than yours--they held your hips, cupped your face, ran down your thighs like he was worshiping you. His fingers are longer--they grasped at your hair, worked their way inside of you, and interlocked with your own like you were something, _someone_ precious.

His eyes flutter open, and he catches the flush on your face. Your thumb is still on his bottom lip, and he parts his mouth to slip it inside. You feel his teeth graze against the pad of your thumb and a tongue run against it. It's warm and wet and hot, and you want to disappear into the sheets but his gaze holds you still in that spot. Your thumb slips out of his mouth with a pop, and he smirks against it before it softens into a smile.

"Good morning, Shouyou-kun."

You reply with a breathy good morning as he tugs you down into a kiss. It's a little stale, but the warmth of it and the sun washes over your skin and seeps down into your bones.

You're used to being alone, but you're quickly getting used to this, and it scares you.

When your lips part, his eyes are so bright and sweet and the flush on his face and ears make you want to stay there indefinitely.

His hands have made their way down to your waist, his fingers lazily tracing circles against your hip, over the marks he left the night before.

"I made breakfast."

"Did ya?"

"Yeah. Come eat with me?"

(You hope it doesn't sound too much like a plea.)

"Of course."

(He makes it sound like a promise.)

You tug him up and he helps you make the bed before shuffling off to the bathroom to wash up.

You're in the kitchen when he steps out, and he takes the seat in front of you at the small dining table you have.

His legs tangle with yours, and his feet run up your calves. You shiver, but it isn't from the cold that used to linger.

You both dig in after a shared _itadakimasu,_ and you can't help the smile that forces its way onto your face.

"What?" he asks like he isn't everything you've silently wanted and more.

"Nothing. I just like this." It comes out softly, like you're afraid that it'll disappear like a dream if you're too loud.

He grins, his eyes lighting up, and he replies, "so do I." 

It sounds close to an "I like you," maybe even awfully close to an "I love you."

You knock your knees together and share a smile.

Those words will come later.

***

You're used to being alone.

He doesn't let you stay that way.


End file.
